


Rebirth

by Zazou



Series: Never A Doe [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, game of thrones
Genre: Bittersweet, Domestic, Fluff, Gen, Not actually incest, Sansa is a Baratheon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-02 01:46:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4040956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zazou/pseuds/Zazou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sansa Baratheon gives birth to her fifth child she's surprised to find that her baby looks shockingly familiar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rebirth

**Author's Note:**

> So I was working on something more plot based and angsty but with what's going on on the T.V. show I couldn't handle any more angst. So here is the closest thing in this A.U. to fluff. Enjoy!

A high piercing wail erupted signaling the end of Sansa's suffering and the birth of her child. For the first time in hours, all her muscles relaxed and her body slumped onto her feathered bed limp and exhausted. Lightheaded she gasped trying to catch her breath. Jyzene ran a cool cloth over Sansa’s fevered brow wiping away the perspiration. Alys handed her a glass of lemon water. Sansa took the glass in her trembling hands and drained it in one gulp. She took a ragged breath and licked her chapped lips. Sansa wasn’t sure she could remember the last time she had been this thirsty…..Oh, that’s right it was two years ago after she’d given birth to her son Colwyn. 

Out of the corner of her eye Sansa could see the dornish midwife and the ancient maestre moving about on the other side of the room. They were probably cleaning off her babe. Her handmaid quickly refilled her glass and handed it back to her. Sansa drank deeply restraining herself just enough to not guzzle it down. 

“It’s far too stuffy in here. Open a window.” Lady Jeyne ordered. Sansa mentally thanked her good aunt for seeming to read her mind.  
Elspeth rushed over to the window and pried it open with a squeaky creak pouring fresh air and light into the musty darkened room. 

“How is he?” Sansa panted her voice hoarse from exhaustion. “How is my baby?” 

“She’s perfectly fine, Your Grace.” Reassured the midwife’s young apprentice flashing her a toothy grin. 

“Ten fingers and ten toes.” 

Stunned, Sansa stared blankly at the apprentice and shakily propped herself up on her elbows. 

“She?”

“Aye,” Called out the midwife as she washed the blood off the new princess’s tiny wriggling body “it’s a girl, Your Grace.” 

A daughter! A wide grin broke out across her face. Most monarchs wouldn’t be pleased with this news. Indeed when Sansa was a young maid she had worried that she would birth only girls and be a disappointment to her family and husband. But after her twin boys, four-year-old Athelstan and her little Colwyn Sansa had begun to worry that she and Robb would be cursed with only boys. 

A daughter! A little girl of her very own. Finally! Oh, Sansa would clad her new babe in pink frills, ribbons, and bows! She would be the cutest most well-dressed baby in all the Seven Kingdoms! Women’s fashions were far more interesting than men’s and hopefully, her daughter would appreciate her work, unlike her sons who at best tolerated their finery. Sansa watched with anticipation as the maester methodically weighed and measured her baby.

“My Evanda will be so glad to finally have a girl cousin to play with!” Lady Jeyne exclaimed. 

Six-year-old Evanda probably wouldn’t want to play with a baby even if said baby was a princess and her ambitious lady mother was breathing down her neck forcing her to make friends. Her Tully relatives had younger girls but Riverrun was too far away. Then Sansa remembered that Shireen had just given birth to her first baby, Elia, a few months ago. Yes, Elia should make a fine playmate for her new daughter. 

The maester handed Sansa’s baby back to the midwife who swaddled and wrapped up in her new butter yellow blanket. Sansa had embroidered prancing stags and direwolves along the edges of the blanket herself. Finally, the midwife handed Sansa her babe. She felt prefect in her arms and looked pink so precious with her flushed face and her eyes were still screwed shut her eyelashes resting on her plump cheeks like butterfly wings.

“Hello, there little one.” Sansa cooed softly gently running her fingers through her daughter’s single tuft of coal black hair.

So far Daemon had been the only one of their brood to be blessed with their father’s Tully locks. Which was a shame as Sansa always thought that red headed women were rather striking. When her daughter was a little older Sansa would send her handmaids away so she could brush and plait her daughter’s hair herself while she told Sansa all about her day. She was excited at the thought of watching the babe before her grow into a young lady. She spent most of her life surrounded by men, her husband, her four boys, and her council. It would be refreshing to have a close female companion to mentor and love. 

But before she could become the wonderful princess she was clearly born to be Sansa had to name her. It had to be a perfect name for her perfect baby girl pretty yet powerful. Shiera? No, too Targaryen. Bellenora? No, too scandalous. Jaehaera? No, there were far too many nobles with “J” names as it was. 

“What’s your name princess?”

The squirming babe suddenly opened her eyes making Sansa gasped. Green, her eyes were pure emerald green, just like Cersei’s, just like….

“Myrcella.” She croaked out. 

“All right ladies.” Brienne called out her voice warm but firm. “Our queen needs some rest. Time to leave her be.” 

Lady Jeyne started to object, Elspeth pouted and shot Sansa a pleading look while Johanna lets out an overly dramatic sigh of disappointment. 

“You heard her out!” Jzyene insisted clapping her hands together. “Out you go! ” 

Together she and Brienne ushered out the simpering ladies in waiting and overly solicitous handmaidens. It was like trying to herd cats away from catnip but after some cajoling Sansa and her baby were left with only Brienne and the haggard maester still scratching out a new entry in his ledger. 

“She…they’re just like Myrcella’s aren’t they?” Sansa asked her cousin worried that she might be hysterical or delirious. 

Growing up surrounded by Lannisters Sansa had seen every shade of green eyes imaginable. Olive, emerald, jade, forest, spring, aquamarine etc. Flecked with gold, taupe, grey, topaz, blue you name it. But this…this was her mother and sister’s special hue, the one she had envied oh so much in her youth. 

Jyzene sat down on the wicker chair next to Sansa’s birthing bed and craned her neck to study her newborn cousin. 

“Aye, those are your sister’s eyes alright.” 

Sansa’s daughter looked up at the two women curiously and curled her tiny fingers around the edge of her blanket. 

“It’s eerie.” 

“Your Grace, the prince consort is pacing up and down the corridor like a madman.” Brienne announced. 

Prolonged exposure to Jyzene and Tyrion had helped the lady knight develop a sense of humor. 

“Shall we end his misery and let him in?” 

Sansa nodded dumbstruck and was vaguely aware of Jzyene leaving the room presumably to fetch her husband. Entranced, she watched as her baby moved her mouth about as if she were trying to learn how to use the muscles in her face. She accidentally pouted her lips into a kissy face making Sansa giggle. She heard the heavy door creak open and Robb’s footfalls as he approached but her eyes stayed locked on her daughter starting at her hypnotic eyes. 

"Are you alright?" 

She heard him come closer but she couldn’t bring herself to break eye contact with their daughter afraid that if she looked away she’d disappear. 

"Elspeth said that it's a girl." 

Sansa’s head snapped up, the trance broken. Damn that empty-headed blabbermouth! Sansa had wanted to be the one to reveal her child's sex but now her boisterous handmaiden had stolen that from her! She would make her clean out the chamber pots for a whole month to make up for it. Sansa’s irritation waned when she saw Robb standing at the foot of her bed. His red hair was wild from nervously raking his fingers through it, his face was covered in rough stubble and lilac colored bags were forming under his eyes from lack of sleep yet he still radiated happiness and excitement. 

"Aye, we have ourselves a princess." 

“Our first princess.” Robb said his voice laced with wonder. Grinning he sat down in the chair by her bedside.

Reluctantly, Sansa gingerly placed their babe over to her eager husband’s arms. She knew it was selfish and silly but she didn’t want to stop holding her she had been carrying her for nine months after all and now it felt strange to be without her. 

Robb looked down at their babe in his arms watching her gurgle and experiment with waving her hands about, his eyes shining with love and pride. Seeing him like this made Sansa's heart glow with warmth. It was always this way during the birth Sansa would curse the gods and promise herself that this would be the last time absolutely the last but then she'd see that sweet love-struck look on her Robb's face and it would all seem worth it. She’d endured many kinds of suffering in her relatively short life but childbirth was the only time her pain had an actual purpose and resulted in something good. 

“She’s so little.” He whispered in awe caressing her full rosy cheek with his forefinger. 

“She’s no smaller than the boys were when they were born.” 

“Except Athelstan.” 

Sansa smiled and rolled her eyes in amusement. 

“Yes dear, except Athelstan.”

Their middle child had always been big for this his age and now at four years old was almost as tall as the twins. Robb liked to boast about his size and tell everyone that he would be a great warrior and knight.

“It’s hard to believe they were once this small.” 

Sansa found it hard to believe that they were now so big. Their baby girl looked up at her father and pursed her lips at him. Robb let out a short bark of laughter and turned to his wife in astonishment. 

“She just...” 

“I know! She’s an utter flirt already.”

“You little minx.” Robb cooed tickling her under her chin as he rocked her gently back and forth. “I’ll have my work cut out for me keeping all your suitors at bay.” 

He leaned over to his wife and delivered a conspiratorial stage whisper. 

"You know our boys are very anxious to see you both.” 

Thankfully all their boys were with them this time. Sansa was still heartbroken that Colwyn had arrived early and Daemon had missed the birth. Even though she knew fostering Daemon at Casterly Rock was necessary she loathed it. It was one of those times when her role as queen conflicted with her role as a mother. But Sansa and Robb wrote to him regularly as did his twin Duncan. They had agreed that when their other children were old enough to read and write they would instruct them to do the same. Sansa was determined to make sure that Daemon’s position as Lord Paramount of the Westerlands didn’t isolate him from his family in King’s Landing. 

“Well, let’s bring them then.” 

Robb gently handed his daughter back to Sansa. Once she was safe in her mother’s arms he pressed a light kiss to Sansa’s forehead before hurrying off to fetch their sons. 

Jzyene quickly set about preparing Sansa for her visitors straightening up the blankets piled all around the bed. Sansa tucked her dark hair behind her ears and smoothed down any fly a ways. 

“Do I look alright?” She asked her cousin. “Not too sickly or anything?” 

She didn’t want her sons to be unduly distressed by her appearance, especially Colwyn. As the youngest, this was the first time he’d seen his mother go through a pregnancy and he hadn’t handled it all that well. When Sansa had pressed his hand to her stomach to let him feel it kick he had jerked away as if he’d been burnt by a flame and shouted at the babe to stop it. 

“You look fine Your Grace.” Jzyene assured her. 

As if on cue the door creaked open and Sansa plastered a reassuring grin on her face. Duncan and Daemon cautiously entered the room clearly worried about disturbing their mother’s sanctuary. Duncan held Athelstan by the hand gently reining the rambunctious boy in. Robb brought up the rear with young Colwyn clinging to him.

“Are you feeling well mother?” Duncan asked his tone formal and measured but his big deep blue eyes revealing his anxiety. 

Sansa’s false smile quickly turned into a real one. Her mother’s ladies in waiting had always said that Sansa had been a lady at three, and much to her delight her eldest took after her in this manner seeming to have been born a little lord. Well behaved and always conscious of propriety, so far he’d shown no trace of the infamous mercurial Baratheon temperament. She had once overheard a couple of squires referring to him as a “prissy prig.” Needless to say, they vanished from court the next day.

“I’m perfectly well, my sweet little prince.”

“See Col,” Athelstan said in a superior and slightly snotty tone. 

“I told you mama would be alright. You can stop your fussing now.”

Colwyn stared at his mother drinking her in with his solemn grey eyes before sticking his thumb in his mouth with a wet pop. Daemon rolled his eyes reached over and must up Athelstan’s dark hair. 

“Come off it! Duncan says you were bawling like a big baby when mama was birthing Colwyn.” 

Athelstan let go of his eldest brother’s hand. His Tully blue eyes narrowed as he glared at him for betraying his trust. Duncan flushed sheepishly and shot his twin a hurt look for tattling on him. Which was more than a tad ironic since he habitually told on his brothers spoiling their mischief. Athelstan raised his hand to whack the crown prince but Robb grabbed him by the arm just in time. Sansa rolled her eyes and made comforting noises to her babe who was unsettled by all the noise. Gods, she was glad to have a girl. It would be a welcome change from the constant teasing and roughhousing. 

“Boys, that’s enough.” Robb said a warning tone in his voice. Sansa always thought he sounded a bit like his lord father when he disciplined the boys but he adamantly denied it. 

“Now come meet your new sister.” 

“Sister?” Duncan repeated standing on his tiptoes and craning his neck to see the babe bundled up in his mother’s arms. 

“Yes, your sister.” Sansa confirmed. 

Curious, Daemon wrinkled up his nose and started to edge closer to her to sneak a peak but Athelstan pushed past him and leapt straight onto Sansa’s birthing bed. 

“Stan!” Robb reprimanded. 

“It’s alright.” 

Normally Sansa tried to rein in his boldness while her husband indulged him but today was a day for celebration, not discipline. 

“He’s just excited.” 

“She’s so very little.” Daemon said his voice suddenly soft. 

“What’s her name?” Duncan asked. 

Sansa felt Robb’s eyes on her. They hadn’t discussed this but she knew that her husband would defer to her. 

“Myrcella. Her name is Myrcella Baratheon.” 

Just then the city bells started to ring out. Myrcella screwed her eyes shut and began to cry. Athelstan waggled his fingers in front of her face and Daemon made shushing noises to try and distract her and calm her down but Myrcella kept wailing. 

“She doesn’t like us.” Pouted Colwyn hiding his face in his father’s jerkin. 

“Don’t be silly! She loves you. It’s just the bells.” 

Robb and Sansa exchanged a knowing look. Myrcella was crying at the tolling of the bells, the same bells that had rung out to mark her namesake’s death and were now chiming to celebrate her birth. Still, it was important to honor the dead and Sansa knew that she would never fail this Myrcella Baratheon as she had the first. She would protect her like the lioness she was.

**Author's Note:**

> My head canon is that Sansa and Robb have two more children after this. Eilonwy who inherited both her father’s hair and eye color and Tommen who has red hair and green eyes. 
> 
> Athelstan is the name of a saxon king and Eilonwy and Colwyn are both traditional Welsh names. Yes I got the name Eilonwy for the Black Cauldron.
> 
> Pronunciation guide here: http://www.forvo.com/word/princess_eilonwy/#en, http://www.forvo.com/word/colwyn/#cy. Athelstan is pronounced exactly how it looks.


End file.
